


Happy Ending

by galactic-pirates (stillsearching47)



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Multi, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillsearching47/pseuds/galactic-pirates
Summary: This is the way that we love, like it’s forever, and then live the rest of our lives ... together.In a world where John was never cursed with the malevolent energy parasite their lives continue as planned. September 4th 1889 is a day they will always remember, because it’s the day they say “I do”.
Relationships: Montague John Druitt/Helen Magnus/James Watson





	Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> In which I actually did research but I make no claims as to accuracy. Hopefully it reads ok. I tried. Once I got the image in my head of James whispering the vows with them I just couldn't resist. I hope it makes someone smile as much as it made me smile :) Enjoy!

A gentle tap on the door woke Helen. Groggily she opened her eyes, blinking at the shadowed room. Her eyes still felt heavy with sleep but the light peeking around the curtain said that it was probably time to rise for the day. She rubbed at her eyes and the knock came again, more insistently this time, and like a lightning bolt Helen remembered what day it was.

She was getting married today.

“Come in,” Helen called.

The wooden door was pushed open and the curly-brown head of Helen’s cousin Margaret, Peggy to friends and family, peeked around the door. Seeing Helen was sitting up, she pushed the door open fully and stepped into the room clutching a lit candle holder in one hand. She was still dressed in her nightgown, a floral wrapper on over the top for modesty. Helen watched as she touched the wick of the candle to three of the candles in the room, the flickering light banishing the shadows from the bedchamber.

Behind the modesty screens Helen’s wedding dress waited, carefully folded so it wouldn’t wrinkle, with the accompanying shoes and gloves. There was also a travelling dress, the rest of her trousseau had been packed because today she left her father’s house. What she needed for her honeymoon had been placed in luggage, everything else would be taken to her new home. That was why her room looked so empty. The pictures she kept, her personal books, and the souvenirs from her father’s travels were in trunks. It was a little ridiculous as she would be maintaining this house while her father was away on his trips, which was for more than half the year these days, but tradition had to be maintained.

Tradition was annoying a lot of the time but occasionally helpful. As ridiculous as it was that this house would be empty, for half the year or more, she and John couldn’t live here until her father died and she inherited. John didn’t have any property of his own but it would be most improper to live in his wife’s house. Usually that would irritate her but in this case it worked for them, as it enabled them to live with James. He had a large house and he separated out some bachelor quarters for himself, renting the rest to his old college friend.

That had caused whispers about a fall in the Watson family fortune but he’d purchased another, smaller but still well-appointed, townhouse for his mother closer to her friends. Rearranging an estate was permitted, and as his mother was well taken care of, it just caused speculation, it wasn’t damaging to his reputation. Society never needed to know what went on behind closed doors with the three of them, and that James’ bachelor quarters would likely see very little use.

“I’ve called for tea and hot water to be prepared for the bath,” Peggy told her.

“What time is it?” Helen asked, stifling a yawn.

“Six o’clock,” Peggy said.

Helen blinked, by nature she was an early riser, she would have woken naturally within an hour. She wasn’t getting married until noon, it seemed a trifle early to be bothering Maud for hot water.

“I know,” Peggy said sympathetically. “It’ll be a challenge to be ready on time, but don’t worry mother will be here soon.”

“Oh I’m not concerned,” Helen said.

She threw the covers back and swung her legs out of bed, shivering at the change in temperature. It was early September so it wasn’t cold. As the bride choosing the date for the wedding had been her prerogative. Honestly she hadn’t cared when she married John, she just wanted to marry him, but his family barely approved of her, so she’d opted for traditional everything to placate them. A September wedding meant for ‘rich and fine living’ and Wednesday was superstitiously apparently the ‘best day of all’, so September the 4th it was.

John had proposed in May of 1887, so that September would have been scandalously quick. It also would have been a mistake. Helen’s lips curved into a fond smile, it hadn’t been until the October that they found their missing piece, when James joined them. She had been happy with John, but the three of them just fit together to be something greater. September of 1888 had been the plan but it had been her father which had scuppered that. He’d taken the source blood to secure it in Bhalasaam, he’d been due to return no later than the April but he still hadn’t returned in June.

For a time she’d feared the worst, and she’d asked John if they could postpone the wedding due to the uncertainty. As it happened her father came back in the July, with a story of an avalanche and a tribe of very interesting abnormals, but by then the notifications had been made and they couldn’t revert back to the original date. An engagement of over two years was unusual, especially given her age, and she knew John’s family hadn’t been pleased. It hadn’t worried them, but then they knew about the longevity granted her by the source blood, and also it wasn’t exactly like they’d waited to enjoy the pleasures of marriage.

The wood floor was chilly against the soles of her feet after the cosy bed so Helen found her slippers, and pulled her own powdered blue wrapper on. The bath was in a small room off the kitchen. Many in their social position had opted to move the bath upstairs, aspiring to the grandeur of the titled classes, but Helen had felt that was unfair on the staff to carry the water to and fro like that. Her father had taken his bath the day before, and had promised to stay out of the way and let the ladies have the run of the house this morning.

“I’m sorry,” Peggy said suddenly.

“Whatever for?” Helen asked.

“Well.” Peggy shrugged uncomfortably. “That Aunt Patricia isn’t here.”

“Oh,” Helen said softly.

Truthfully her thoughts had been turning frequently to her mother of late. Helen supposed that was natural for a woman approaching her wedding day. Her mother had been gone over two decades now but she still missed her, and wondered what she would say and think. She’d been so young when she died that she hadn’t known her well enough to even speculate. Helen liked to think that her mother would have approved of John, and of the choices she’d otherwise made to train as a doctor, to study at Oxford and of course the source blood experiment.

Given that her mother had married her father, and he was so much of a maverick the Royal College had stripped him of his license, Helen supposed she had ample reason to believe that her mother would have been supportive. It was a hollow ache that she’d never know for certain, but it didn’t do to dwell on things that couldn’t be changed. Like today, her wedding day, it was never going to be perfect because she could only marry John. They couldn’t tell the world how much they loved James and how much he loved them back. Poor James, it worried her that he might feel lesser and that simply wasn’t true.

Still not having a particular attachment to the details of the day had made it easier with John’s family. Her gown was very much what was in fashion, with the train and the long veil. She particularly didn’t like the long veil, and would overall have preferred something much simpler, but for one day only she wasn’t bucking convention - at least visibly. The ceremony would be at the local church. Thankfully Peggy had agreed to be her maid of honour. Helen didn’t have any female friends to speak of, not many women trod the path she had, so it was a relief to be able to rely on family.

Her father was an only child but her mother had a brother and sister. Helen had spent summers with them growing up, but they hadn’t seen much of each other in recent years. Despite that distance Aunt Frances, Peggy’s mother, had willingly taken on her sister’s duties when it came to the traditional ‘mother of the bride’ tasks. Other family had filled the remaining wedding party positions: John’s youngest sister Edith was a bridesmaid, two of John’s nephews were pageboys, one of John’s nieces was a flower girl and so was the daughter of Helen’s eldest cousin George. Honestly, it was a lot of stuff and nonsense, much too ostentatious for her tastes but at the end of the day she and John would be married and that’s all that truly mattered.

Another gentle tap at the door and Maud poked her head round. “Miss, I have your tea.”

“Thank you Maud.” Helen smiled.

Maud brought in the tray and Helen accepted her cup gratefully. That was the last time that morning that Helen had to herself. After that her life wasn’t her own. Aunt Frances swept in like a whirlwind and she was bathed, her blonde hair was styled and pinned and her makeup was done. They helped her into her ridiculous wedding dress and then Helen was ushered in front of the mirror.

Suddenly it didn’t seem quite so ridiculous.

Oh she still hated the long veil, and all the lace was far too fussy, but it was a wedding dress and this was her wedding day. Unlike most young girls she hadn’t spent her free time dreaming of a wedding and prince charming. She’d spent her time reading, hungry for knowledge, and then dreaming of the places she would travel and of maybe making a difference like her father. However, she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t given this day any thought, and as she’d got older she’d started to believe that this day would never come. She wouldn’t compromise who she was and so there hadn’t been any suitors, nobody had any interest until John and James.

Helen blinked rapidly. She wasn’t usually given to tears but it was an overwhelming moment. Over her shoulder in the mirror she could see Aunt Frances usher Peggy out and close the door softly behind her. Helen’s heart ached. That should have been her mother standing there, it should have been Patricia Magnus sharing this moment with her daughter.

“Helen, dear, I need to speak with you for a moment,” Frances said.

“Of course,” Helen said automatically, wrenching her eyes away from the mirror and a reality that never was. No matter how long she stared, her mother wasn’t going to appear. “What is it?”

“Well.” Frances coughed. “As your mother isn’t here, and as her sister and a married woman, it falls on me to tell you of the … of the marriage bed.”

Frances whispered the last two words. Helen felt her lips twitch with amusement and she swiftly plastered on her most neutral expression. It would not do to laugh. Aunt Frances looked acutely uncomfortable which Helen didn’t really understand. Surely as a married woman, with an almost grown daughter, Frances should be past her embarrassment when it came to carnal relations. Although perhaps Helen would have felt differently if there was any mystery left in that department.

“Please don’t worry Aunt Frances,” Helen said hastily. “I’m a qualified doctor, I’m well aware of what awaits me.”

“Oh good.” Frances sighed in relief, her expression looked like she’d just been spared execution and Helen pressed her lips together, desperate not to let a laugh escape. “Then it’s time.”

Frances opened the door and glared at her daughter, who looked like she’d been trying to listen through the door. Peggy picked up Helen’s train and then awkwardly they navigated the stairs down to the front hall. Helen had to admit she did feel a little bit like a princess descending down. Her father must have heard them as when she was halfway down the stairs he appeared out of his office. His expression was one Helen hadn’t seen before, the only word that came to mind was that of wonder.

“You look a picture,” Gregory breathed. “I’m just sorry your mother isn’t here. Frances, you and Peggy go on, I just want a word with Helen before we leave.”

“Of course,” Frances agreed, ushering Peggy towards the front door.

Helen followed her father into his office, careful not to catch the train in the door. The door clicked softly shut behind them and then he took Helen’s hands in his. Minutely he shook his head as he looked at her, his eyes misting, like he couldn’t believe they were here.

“A daughter's wedding day is always bittersweet for a father. I just need you to know Helen that I’m happy for you. I’m happy because you are happy, and that’s all I ever wanted for you. I’m glad that you’ve found men who accept you for who you truly are, rather than trying to diminish your light so they shine brighter.”

“Oh father.” Helen’s breath caught in her throat and she swallowed back the wave of emotion.

She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times her father had used his words, and said he was proud of her, he usually said it via actions like when he trusted her with his research. She supposed if any day was suitable for emotional confessions, it would be her wedding day.

“John is a good man, I’m glad you approve.” She squeezed his hand, with her white gloved one.

Gregory smiled and gave her a knowing look. “And so is James.”

Helen’s jaw dropped, her eyes widened, she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I have eyes. You hide it well but you are my daughter,” Gregory told her. “You don’t need my approval, you never have, but you have it and my blessing. I admit I was surprised at first but I shouldn't have been; you are a Magnus, we’ve never been conventional.”

A choked sob escaped Helen’s throat and she threw her arms around her father, heedless of creasing her dress. She had never dreamed of this possibility. She had been resigned to the necessity of keeping her relationship with James a secret due to the potential scandal. Oh she was reasonably certain that Nigel and Nikola knew, but they had shown their friendship by staying silent. To have her father’s blessing was the greatest gift imaginable.

“There, there my dear.” Gregory patted her back. “Don’t cry. Frances will kill me if your makeup is ruined.”

Helen gave a tremulous laugh and pulled herself back together. She couldn’t wait to tell John and James about this, they would both be as touched as she was at her father’s unexpected support. Although John would no doubt brood eventually at yet another stark difference between her father and his. Helen remembered when she’d first met his parents, she’d been invited to lunch at their family home in Dorset. They’d been polite but frosty and John had tried to carry the stilted conversation by talking about their classes at Oxford. William, John’s father, had immediately said that would all stop now she was to be John’s wife. John’s response had been ‘as the lady wishes’ and Helen remembered the fury on William’s face.

He’d thrown his napkin down and ordered John to his office. She’d heard the yelling all the way down the hall but John hadn’t given in. It made her heart swell to think about it. John had said that he loved her for who she was, and that he would support her in all things, and that if his father couldn’t accept that then it was good that he was the third son. John had emerged a minute later with a livid handprint where his father had struck him. Helen knew his father had only begrudgingly accepted the match in the end due to Gregory Magnus’ reputation. Her father might have had his license suspended but he was very well-known in his field, the Royal College didn’t approve, but a lot of people still wanted to work with him. Her father certainly never had any trouble finding people to join him on his expeditions.

James also had his own parental pressure. An only child, and his mother a widow, she was desperate for her son to settle down and give her grandchildren. She wanted him to have a wife to take care of him. In a lot of ways it would have been easier if she’d married James officially, but John was the one who had courted her. He’d proposed in the May and James hadn’t joined them until the October. By then it would have been scandalous to have changed the situation publicly.

“Are you ready?” Gregory checked.

“Yes.” Helen nodded.

Her father opened the study door. Helen took a deep breath and he led her back out into the hallway, and then down and out the front door to the carriage waiting outside. The train made clambering inside the carriage a little awkward, really when bustles were in fashion it was much easier, but soon they were safely seated and the horses pulled away. It was only a short carriage ride to the local church. They didn’t attend often but Helen had made more of an effort over the last few months in case the clergyman made an issue of it.

The church was an old building, built several hundred years earlier, with the traditional dark grey stone and spire. A small building, one of several churches in the city, it had a comparatively tiny yard and was surrounded by tenements. Almost everyone must have already been inside, seated in the pews, as she could just see the members of the wedding party. Then Helen spotted Nigel lingering in the church vestibule. He vanished inside when he spotted the carriage, presumably to signal John who would be standing at the front of the church, that the wait was almost over. Also the organist would need a cue to start the procession music.

Gregory helped Helen down from the carriage. The noon sun was high in the cloudless sky, beating down as they walked the short distance from the carriage to the entrance of the church. Stepping inside it was much cooler, and much darker, as the light was filtered through the large stained glass windows. Helen could hear the faint murmur of voices of their waiting guests. Her stomach flipped as nerves overcame her. She was used to people staring but usually she didn’t care what they thought. However, behind the final door into the church proper, sat all their friends and family, and she had a sudden fear of tripping on this ridiculous train. Although that was what the pageboys were for. John’s two young nephews were directed to pick up the train and then the organ pipes blared into life.

The flower girls went down the aisle first. Helen could hardly see from her position at the back. Then Edith as bridesmaid, and then Peggy, and then it was her turn. Her father linked his arm with hers and they started the long walk down the aisle. It was far easier than Helen thought because as soon as she caught sight of John and James waiting for her, all her nerves vanished. A deep smile formed behind her veil.

James was trying to look stoic, as the best man, and failing miserably as he couldn’t suppress his fond smile. John had no such limitations, it was his wedding day, his love was allowed to shine on his face. They both looked good in their dark suits, though Helen wasn’t sure that a top-hat truly suited either of them, but it was another ‘must’ of this era of wedding fashion. Gregory placed Helen’s hand in John’s, James unfortunately had to take his seat in the front pew on the groom’s side, and the organ music stopped.

“Dearly beloved…” the clergyman began.

But Helen wasn’t really paying attention. Through the veil her eyes were pinned to John’s, delighting in the love and warmth she could see there. The clergyman’s voice just washed over her as he spoke about the institution of marriage. They might have been standing in front of the eyes of all their friends and family, but all that faded away, it was just the two of them until the clergyman ended his sermon and reached the vows.

“Repeat after me, I Montague John Druitt take thee…” the clergyman droned.

“I Montague John Druitt take thee … Helen Patricia Magnus to be my wife,” John repeated.

He had to keep his head facing her but Helen saw John’s eyes flicker in James’ direction, and knew that he was doing what they’d talked about. John was mentally adding on ‘and James Watson to be my husband’. They couldn’t say it out loud but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make the same promise. Helen glanced over at James, it was easier for her as he was technically behind John, as he was seated on John’s side of the church. It was hard to see but she thought she could just make out the subtle movement of James’ lips as he soundlessly whispered the vows with them.

John continued, with the prompting of each line by the clergyman. “To have and to hold from this day forward … for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer ... in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish … and I promise to be faithful to you until death parts us.”

_‘For all eternity’_ Helen mentally added. It wasn’t the done thing to alter the vows, or that’s what John would have ended on. Then it was her turn as the clergyman turned to her, repeating the same vows for her to pledge herself to John.

“I Helen Patricia Magnus take thee … Montague John Druitt.” _‘and James Watson’_ , “to be my husband,” Helen vowed. “To have and to hold from this day forward … for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer ... in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish …”

Helen heard John’s father, William, make a noise in his throat as she spurned the traditional ‘obey’, instead using the same vows as John. However, while she was willing to make many concessions today to placate John’s family, that particular vow wasn’t one of them. She, John and James, were equals in all things. She wasn’t going to settle for less and they wouldn’t have her any other way.

“Do you have the ring?” the clergyman asked.

James got to his feet and withdrew the single ring from his pocket, which he handed to John so that he could place it on her finger. This was traditional, while double-ring ceremonies did happen they were more unusual; the ring signified that the wife was bound to her husband, and few men wanted that statement for themselves. John had wanted a ring but as James couldn’t wear one they’d decided against it. Instead they’d just had today’s date inscribed on the inside of the gold band, rather than the date and their initials as was customary, so that way it could stand for all three of them.

“With this ring I thee wed …” Carefully John pushed the ring through the slit in her gloves.

The gold was cool against her finger, a slight weight that Helen relished. When she’d first started wearing her engagement ring, she’d been so aware of it on her finger. She kept rubbing it with her neighbouring fingers, and this was likely to be the same until she got used to it. A giddy grin stretched across her face, thankfully obscured by the veil. They were married. This was now the first day of the rest of their lives and she couldn’t be happier.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the clergyman finished and a beat later the organ groaned to life again.

John led her back down the aisle. With considerable effort Helen kept her eyes fixed on the door ahead. The veil could only hide so much and it was considered bad taste to acknowledge the guests. Why she didn’t know, as she’d quite like to see their reactions. She did just manage to glimpse that both Nigel and Nikola had opted to sit on her side of the church. That had been the cause for much debate as they were all friends but ultimately her family was smaller than John’s, and so she had fewer guests.

The church vestry was just off the vestibule. They paused, waiting for the clergyman to pass them and open the door to the vestry. It was a small room, with a tiny table containing the parish register and an inkwell. They stepped inside and the organ stopped, and then the sounds of people moving could be heard. As was tradition her father would leave the church first, and then everyone else would file out afterwards. He’d be joining them here as one of the witnesses, another bone of contention with John’s family.

It was important to them that James’ name was on the register with theirs, even if it was just as a witness. John’s father had been disgruntled, as he thought John should have chosen one of his brothers, but he’d been even unhappier when they’d suggested James could be her witness. William hadn’t felt it was proper, not having a representative of her family to signify the legitimacy of the marriage. So her father was her witness, and John had insisted James was his and his father had just had to accept it.

Her father arrived, a proud smile on his face. Helen shuffled back, trying to make enough space in the small room. Exasperatedly she glared down at her train. Somebody was going to step on the damn thing, she just knew it. Then another shadow appeared in the doorway and Gregory inched further into the room, allowing James to enter. Helen beamed at him, her hand automatically reaching for him, before she pushed it back down to her side. John had less compunctions and squeezed James’ shoulder. James patted his upper arm, and their eyes met as they communicated without words.

Helen’s cheeks ached from how wide her smile was and she forced herself to take a measured breath. Later, when they were alone, the sheer joy could run free but until then, there was decorum.

“If you could check the information and sign.” the clergyman flipped the book around to face them.

John took the quill first, signing his name with a flourish. He handed it to her and Helen took it, bending over to sign her name with her typical cramped script. She handed it to James next and a smile played across his lips, as he pressed in between her and John to sign the book. Finally her father signed and it was done. Her father left first, to join their guests outside the church. Helen shot James one last glance, as John led her outside. James had to be the last to leave, as best man he had to pay the clergyman.

Helen blinked rapidly. Walking out of the church into the sun was like walking into a blinding inferno. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust after the relative dimness of the church. Rice rained down over them as their guests showered them with it. John helped her into the carriage, and the horses trotted off with the clip-clop of their hooves.

Finally they were alone.

John laughed, a deep rumble in his chest and it was infectious. Helen laughed as she batted at him, where he was covered in the rice confetti. It didn’t show as much against her white dress, as it did against his dark suit. Gently John reached for the veil and drew it over her head. Now they had left the church, that was finally, blissfully permitted. He bent his head, pressing his lips against hers and Helen hummed with deep satisfaction.

They’d kissed thousands of times, and this held the warmth of familiarity, but also the magical spark of awareness that this kiss was another ‘first’. Helen remembered all their firsts, and this was their first kiss as a married couple. She licked along his lips and he opened for her, groaning low in his throat. God she loved him. All too soon the carriage swayed to a stop. Helen huffed in annoyance, and John chuckled, his eyes showing a similar frustration.

He helped her down from the carriage and into the front room. They were alone for less than a minute before her father, and John’s parents joined them, and then the parade of well-wishers began. Helen sat there, a polite smile pasted on her face, as one by one people she knew greeted her and then congratulated John, or if they were John’s guests they congratulated him and then he introduced her. Nobody congratulated her because her honour came from her husband. It made her want to roll her eyes at the thought.

After half an hour they were served light refreshments for the wedding breakfast and then they had to cut the cake. There was an elaborate rich fruitcake, with ornate white frosting, for the guests and two smaller cakes, one white and one dark, for her and John. The cake was boxed up, Maud, Peggy and Edith helped, and then finally Peggy tugged her away. The guests were starting to leave and it was time for her to change into her travelling dress.

“Helen.” Nigel shuffled awkwardly. He was standing by the stairs and Helen wondered if he’d been waiting there. “I just wanted to say congratulations.”

Helen smiled at him and reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you Nigel.”

He’d been through the receiving line of course but as was proper he’d just congratulated John. She was touched that he made an effort to say it to her now, but then The Five had always been a group of equals.

“Helen, darling.” Nikola ghosted up behind her. “Alas it’s too late to run away with me now.”

Peggy gave a shocked gasp and Helen looked at Nikola with her usual mix of exasperated amusement, and then she couldn’t help herself and she laughed. Only Nikola.

“Really Nikola?” Helen shook her head fondly.

Nikola shrugged, a smirk playing across his lips. “Johnny’s a lucky man.” He sobered slightly. “Congratulations Helen, I wish you all the happiness in the world.” A teasing glint returned to his eyes. “And should your wedding night prove disappointing…”

Helen cuffed him lightly on his ear. “Away with you.”

Nigel rolled his eyes and dragged Nikola away. Helen laughed softly, turned and saw Peggy’s expression. Scandalised was the only word for it.

“Don’t worry about Nikola, or Nigel, they are old friends. We all study together at Oxford,” Helen said reassuringly. Peggy still looked uncertain so Helen clasped her arm and started carefully climbing the stairs. “They were John’s friends first of course. He knows what they are like.”

“Oh,” Peggy breathed. “Well if Mr Druitt knows them then I suppose… well it’s not very proper.”

“Nikola’s Serbian,” Helen said with a shrug.

She was quite certain that wasn’t why Nikola was occasionally so outrageous, but she knew that British snobbery would be quite happy to blame that. Indeed Peggy’s look of concern vanished, resolving the situation. Peggy helped her out of her wedding dress and Helen changed into the blue dress she’d chosen for travel. She redid her hair, into her regular simpler style, now it wasn’t encumbered by the veil. She felt almost giddy as she went back downstairs. All the extended guests had left, it was only close family that remained to see them off.

James wasn’t there, as best man it was his job to go on ahead to the train station with the luggage. It was bad taste for anyone to ask where they were going on their honeymoon, only the best man was allowed to know. Helen smiled, thinking how convenient that particular tradition was, given that James would be coming with them. John was waiting in the entrance hall, standing next to her father.

John took her hand, raising it he brushed his lips against the back of it. “Are you ready darling?”

“Always.”

Her father kissed her cheek in goodbye, and shook John’s hand, and then John led her back out to the carriage. It was just a short ride to the station. Helen squeezed his hand as the horses pulled away. She then let out a theatrical sigh of relief and John laughed.

“Not long now,” John murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Helen shivered with anticipation. Earlier the carriage ride had been too brief, but this time it felt much too long, as she wanted to get to the station - to James. The luggage had been taken care of the day before, as they weren’t actually travelling in any traditional sense, John had teleported their trunks to the Italian villa himself. They had to meet James at the train station but they weren’t taking a train. They’d scoped out a secluded spot, tucked away around the corner of the building, shielded by a hedge. In the hustle and bustle of a station nobody should notice them slipping off there, and even if they did, they wouldn’t see the swirl of the teleport, it would just be as if they vanished. James was leaning against the wall of the building. He straightened when he saw them.

“Hello old boy, fancy seeing you here,” John greeted with a chuckle.

The three of them slipped round the corner and then behind the hedge. John clasped their shoulders tightly and the world spun away. A moment later they were in Italy. Helen gasped. John had taken them directly to the master bedroom of the villa. The double doors onto the balcony were open, the white muslin curtain billowing gently in the breeze. She took a deep breath, tasting the tang of the sea salt and she took a step forward, peeking through the curtains to see the ocean. She wasn’t sure if she could hear the muted roar of the waves, or if it was her imagination, they probably weren’t that close. It was wonderful.

She turned. The delights of Italy could wait. Right now it was her wedding day and she had more pressing matters. Three steps and she was close enough to press her lips against James’, his arms came up around her, holding her close.

“You whispered the vows too?” Helen whispered against his lips.

“Perhaps we should make sure,” John suggested, a wicked grin on his face. Helen glanced at him curiously and he gestured to James. “Do you James Watson take Helen Patricia Magnus to be your wife?”

“I do,” James said softly, gently he brushed his hand against her cheek. Helen grabbed it and pressed a kiss to the palm.

“And do you Helen Patricia Magnus take James Watson to be your husband?” John continued.

“I do,” Helen repeated, feeling the weight of the moment. She blinked, they weren’t quite done. “Do you James Watson take Montague John Druitt to be your husband?”

“Yes.” James’ voice cracked, and he reached for John’s hand. “I definitely do.”

“And finally do you Montague John Druitt take James Watson to be your husband?” Helen grinned.

“I’d have no other,” John said simply.

He took a step forward and captured James’ lips with his own. Helen’s heart beat loudly in her ears, her blood thrummed through her veins. Her gaze was drawn to the large four poster bed in the center of the room. A minute later John and James separated and James turned back to her. He kissed her softly, sliding his lips gently against hers before increasing the pressure.

“Sealed with a kiss,” James whispered.

“I think it’s supposed to be sealed with more than that,” Helen teased, her eyes sparkling, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

John’s eyes darkened with desire. “Well we do need to ensure the marriage is properly binding.”

James chuckled softly. “I don’t think there’s anything proper about this but who am I to argue.”

Helen pushed at James’ jacket as John shrugged off his own. The conversation with her father suddenly flashed into her mind. She opened her mouth to tell them, to say that her father knew about James and they had his blessing, when John started unbuttoning his shirt. Later, she’d tell them later. Right now, they had a wedding to celebrate, and the start of the rest of their lives - together.


End file.
